what day is it anyway

May 29, 2020

I’m having a day. A crap day. I’m tired. Work feels hard. The house is annoying me. The dogs are driving me up the wall, specifically, their barking. So much fucking barking. My hair looks bad. This morning when I brushed my teeth and spit in the sink, there was some blood; I’m vaguely worried about that. I feel like I am getting a cold, but I have felt something kind of similar on and off all of this spring, so it’s probably the same allergies as always. Fingers crossed. I’m sick of doing any number of things every damn day, such as the dishes, cooking food, putting away all the shit one of us left sitting out, dealing with cat pee . . . same damn thing on a different day, but last week I literally got my days wrong and was telling everyone I talked on Monday that it was Tuesday. Fail.

We bought pulse oximeter. We’ve been taking our readings every day. It’s replaced the ritual of taking our temperature. How does one even know were are getting a valid reading from this gadget? But we looked up the range and apparently a reading of 90 or lower means trouble.

I want to build a tool shed so we can move the tools out of big shed and transform it into some kind of extra space for hanging out. Hopefully. But I’m caught up in a stage of constant research, which is what I do when I’m taking on a project that I’ve not done before and is a little ambitious, skill wise. So many of the toolshed plans you can download for free are for sheds that look like crap. And this shed is going to take up a prominent and visible space in out backyard so looking like crap is not an option. At some point I need to just pull the trigger; place an order with Lowes. Build the damn thing until I run into a barrier. Ugh. Isn’t there some horrible quote about how nothing worth while comes easy. I’d look it up, but then it would seem, like that quote is something that I roll off the tip of my tongue, which is not true and that untruth makes my post feel less authentic to me.

It’s not like I can escape curating myself. I curated myself before the onset of our shared digital life, and my digital self, i.e. in the 70’s and 80’s. But I do want to try and capture something real about this very unreal time. I just had to stop myself for looking up a replacement for the word “unreal.”

Yesterday, MTB and I rode our bikes to pick up very mediocre carry out tamales. It was beautiful weather for a ride. Sunny. Warm but not hot. A little wind. Nice route. Residential streets. Lots of big trees. Lots of nice yards. Back home and after dinner, I though about how it was like riding around a ghost town, but we, the living, we’re the ghosts. Not even sure this analogy works. It’s just everyone is right there and at the same time everyone is out of reach. And it’s so very lonely. Collective loneliness.

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